Skipping forward to Christmas 2016, here we have a present for my friend Britt! She plays the Alice to my Secundus Victor Butterfly Boy...
Another gift fic -- and a pretty recent one, given it’s Christmas 2016. Please enjoy this replay of my fic for my pal Britt (aka @decorusmentis), featuring Doc attempting to be a good honorary grandpa for Chester. He -- mostly succeeds.
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Figured something about our couple’s new Secundus child would be appropriate, and I’d already suggested Doc making a self-rocking cradle, so. . . So enjoy the cute silly. XD (Now I just need to get this new RP blog up and running. . .)
"So you're absolutely certain it works as it should."
"Yes."
"No more turning upside-down."
"No."
"No more swinging so fast it eventually flings itself through a window."
"No."
"No more bouncing instead of rocking."
"No, although I'm thinking of adding that back in as a feature."
Alice lifted a dubious eyebrow, holding Chester close to her. "Didn't it put a permanent dent in your floor?"
"Well, obviously I'll raise the height first. . .but I assure you, the rocking function works perfectly," Doc told the anxious parents. "I've tried it with three different bags of flour and two eggs, and all of them have survived intact."
Victor and Alice exchanged a look. On the one hand, Doc was a certified genius. And both of them trusted him to never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt their son. The man was capable of creating wonders, and the fact that he'd put his vast intellect to the task of helping their baby sleep through the night -- it was touching, it really was.
On the other hand, they were the parents of a fragile newborn, and Doc's inventions always seemed to have one last kink that needed ironing out. . . "Do -- do you mind giving us a demonstration?" Victor asked, fiddling with his tie. "Just so we can see--"
Doc produced a bag of flour from behind his back. "It's fine," he told Victor as he put it carefully inside the cradle and covered it with a blanket. "If it were my child, I'd want as many redundant safety tests as possible too." He adjusted the flour bag minutely, then flicked a switch.
SHRIEEEEK, SHRREEEEEEK, SCHIREEEEEEK --
Chester started wailing, clearly not a fan of the sound. Doc grimaced, then set his jaw. "All that proves is that it needs to be oiled!"
Victor and Alice both laughed. "It does look like it works," Alice nodded. "Good job, Dr. Brown. Now turn it off before my ears start bleeding."
@raventears12 Since our major thread activity lately is the “Somebody I Used To Know” AU, here’s a fic about the moment Victor discovered Alice was in bedlam! Enjoy your angsty Victor angst.
"Dear Alice,"
And right there, his pen stopped, unwilling to go on. Victor stared at the salutation. How many times had he written that phrase over the past decade? How many times had he sat down at this desk to compose a letter to his best friend? About once a month, though sometimes I skip one – let's say ten letters a year. Times ten years. . .a hundred letters, give or take a few. A hundred times I've written those words.
And not once has she written back.
He sighed, leaning over the almost-blank sheet. On the one hand, he could understand her taciturnity. As his parents were so fond of reminding him, she was sick. Though sick with what, they wouldn't say. Victor was sure that the burns from the fire, however bad, were long healed by now – but maybe the smoke had ruined her lungs, or the flames scorched her legs so badly she wasn't able to walk or run. (Oh, he hoped that wasn't the case. Alice would be heartbroken if she couldn't run around anymore.) He knew from long experience that the human body was a fragile thing, and easy to hurt. While it was hard to imagine the sweet, energetic girl from his past crippled and trapped in a hospital bed, it wasn't impossible.
On the other hand – he missed her. Missed her with a passion bordering on painful. The memory of her – eyes glinting with mischief, hair whipping around her face, hand wrapped around his as she dragged him off to new adventures – made his heart ache even as it brought a smile to his face. For all too brief a period, she'd been the one person who really seemed to understand him. Who really seemed to like him. When she'd been around, childhood had seemed less lonely, less strict, less – dull. She'd been a needed splotch of bright green and red and blue on the gray canvas of his life.
And then the fire had happened, and all that color had drained away. Leaving him with nothing but memories. . .and a pile of unanswered letters. What if she died and they just didn't want to tell me? he thought, biting his lip. What if I've been sending all these to a lonely grave? Or what if she was taken out of the country and they've all just been thrown in the bin at the post office? What if she doesn't even remember me at all?
His eyes found the words again. "Dear Alice." Yes, despite everything, she was still his "dear Alice." The friend who had been there for him through thick and thin – who had shared everything she was with him, freely and gladly. They may not have had long together, but he wasn't going to give up on her just yet. Setting his jaw, he started on the body of the letter.
"Writing to your friend again?"
Victor started, then looked up to see Mayhew outside his door. "Oh – yes," he said, glancing down. A huge blot of ink glistened on the paper. Damn, I'll have to start afresh.
"Good for you," Mayhew said proudly, taking his ever-present pipe out of his mouth for a moment. "Always thought it was kind of you to write to that poor girl while she was in – aheh, ahah! – bedlam."
The pen fell from numb fingers. Victor didn't remember dropping it, nor did he remember jumping from his seat to clamp his fingers on Mayhew's shoulders. He stared into the man's startled face, his world grinding to a halt around him. "Sick," they'd said. But they'd never told him sick with what. "She's where?!"
Happy birthday, Vicky!!!! *THROWS CONFETTI EVERYWHERE* THANK YOU FOR YOUR INCREDIBLE FRIENDSHIP AND FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THIS LONG. I hope your day is wonderful♥
Awwww~ Thank you very much, Britt! It’s been a very nice birthday -- my parents got me a new computer chair, We Don’t Need Roads: The Making of the Back To The Future Trilogy book, and the Marty in the DeLorean POP Funko figure. :) And we all went to Dave & Buster’s this afternoon/evening for dinner and a run around the arcade. I can recommend the Brookie Tower -- though considering it’s two fairly big cookie-brownie sundae things, I’d say order it with a friend and split it.
Can’t go wrong with some silly Valice fluff, right? I’ve mentioned Alice doing this as a headcanon/cute couple idea before, and figured it was worth exploring in more detail. XD
The habits of this most unusual moth are still being –
A firm hand abruptly closed around his arm, picking it up and moving it to the side. Moments later, the text before him was obscured by black-and-white stripes. Victor blinked and looked up at Alice's face. "Er – hello."
"Hello," Alice replied, dropping his hand and apparently completely unconcerned that she'd interrupted him.
". . .Did you want something?"
Alice stretched out across his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm bored," she announced.
"You could draw something," Victor suggested.
"I don't feel like it." She flexed her feet, then looked over at the magazine still clutched in his other hand. "What are you reading?"
"It's the latest from the London Lepidoptery Society," Victor told her, snaking his arm around her so he could show her properly. "A discussion on butterflies and moths with unusual feeding habits. Did you know there's a kind of moth that drinks blood?"
"Is there?" Alice reached out and ran a finger along the lines of text. "How curious."
"Yes, apparently it's not that different from a mosquito. . .there's also a bit on butterflies who drink the juices of decaying carrion."
Alice wrinkled her nose, wiggling into a more comfortable position. "Why would they do that?"
"Well, there's certain minerals you can't get from flower nectar, and–" He stopped again as she pressed her head into his chin for no good reason. "And you have been spending far too much time around your Cheshire Cat."
Alice smirked up at him. "Just tell me all about your little death butterflies."
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Since your Coraline muse has been so strong lately, I bring you Coraline fic -- based around a certain headcanon I mentioned to you a little while back. :) I hope you enjoy!
"Ah, how the mighty have fallen. . ."
A face like shattered porcelain glared blindly in his direction. "What do you want, vermin?" the Beldam's voice rasped, like pins and needles falling down a long metal tube.
"Just waiting to see how the world ends – with a bang or a whimper," the cat replied, perched on the edge of what had once been a fireplace mantel but now resembled nothing more than a box drawn on a sheet of paper. Below him, the final threads of the Beldam's world slowly began to unwind. "You've held on longer than I thought, I must confess."
"Sucked dry the furniture. . .and the last of the cocoa beetles." The Beldam's remaining hand scratched at the air. "Made those for her, the ungrateful wretch . . ."
"No, you made them for yourself, really," the cat said, tail flicking back and forth like a metronome. "Just like everything in this realm. Treats and tricks and gilded cages. . .Coraline just saw the danger in time."
"You interfered!" the Beldam roared, hair whipping snake-like around her face. "You told her!"
"I may have dropped the odd hint or two," the cat allowed, licking a paw. "But it was your own actions that doomed you in the end. Pressing too hard too soon for the buttons, putting 'love her' above 'obey me' in the heads of your puppets. . .my, my, you were desperate for a meal. Or revenge – you never forgave the twin who ran, did you?"
"That was your fault too! You led her back!"
"She wanted to go home in the first place. You never would have had more than one." The cat rubbed his ear. "Greed and arrogance have always been your downfall." He glanced at the stub of her right arm. "Literally in this last case."
"I could have gotten the key back," the Beldam hissed, patrolling her shrinking web, shying away from the strands that curled away and faded into nothingness. "I would have, if not for that dratted boy. . .and the fairy ring. . ."
"Ah yes – you know, Coraline didn't even consider that when she chose that spot to dispose of the key? She was merely thinking about the drop." The cat swiped his tongue along his flank. "Miles beneath the earth, and trapped by a power far deeper than your own. The mighty have fallen indeed."
The Beldam shuddered as the threads beneath her grew brittle, paling to a misty grey. "Disgusting, cheating girl. . .I thought she was just a little problem. . . ."
"Oh no. I think it's safer to say that she was a Liddell problem."
The cracked face, its edges softening and melting as the last of her power drained, jerked upward. "What? You – you mean–"
"Her great-grandmother, if my nose did not deceive me," the cat confirmed with a tiny nod. "And just as clever and stubborn and brave." He leapt off the mantel as it dissolved away entirely, padding on dull nothingness above the Beldam's head. "Congratulations – you were nearly the first of your kind to best and feast on that bloodline. Let that thought warm you in your final moments."
"Beast!" The needle-fingers slashed upward in a final desperate lash of silver, but the cat was already gone.
Christmas Fic: I'll Be Home For Christmas (for Britt)
raventears12, Merry Christmas! I figured some Christmas-themed Valice wouldn't go amiss. I kind of mentioned this earlier in the Forgotten Vows Christmas post, so if it looks familiar, that's why.
“Part of me can't believe we're going back to Houndsditch so soon after finally escaping it.”
“Honestly, I feel much the same,” Alice admitted with a chuckle, leaning up against her husband. “But it's for a good cause – and besides, it'll help us be properly grateful for what we have now.”
“I think I'm quite grateful enough, but you're certainly right about the 'good cause' part.” Victor patted the bag of toys and clothes sitting by his side in the cab. “The children will be shocked by the sight of us carrying gifts, I'm sure.”
“Only for about two seconds,” Alice smirked. “Then we'll be swept away by a wave of grasping little hands. You know how they are – you gave me cake once.”
Victor laughed. “Well, I suppose I'll just have to put my long arms to work once – what's that?”
Alice frowned as he suddenly moved closer to the window, peering out at the street before them as they finally turned onto Houndsditch's road. “What's what?”
“There's another carriage outside the Home!”
“Huh?” Alice took her own look. Sure enough, there was a surprisingly handsome two-seater with a fine bay roan horse sitting outside the front gates of the orphanage. “Well, that's peculiar. . .I'd suggest fellow philanthropists, but they never bothered with Houndsditch before. . .” She knocked on the roof of their cab. “Stop here, please.”
The driver obligingly came to a halt right behind the other vehicle. Victor helped Alice out of the cab, then paid the driver as she wandered over to inspect their mystery carriage. Both two-seater and horse were completely unfamiliar to her. “Curiouser and curiouser. . .maybe Dr. Wilson's having company over?” she suggested as her husband grabbed their sack of goodies. “I mean. . .it couldn't be anyone – well.” She rubbed her arm as old memories she'd hoped not to think about today pushed their way into her mind. “You know as well as I do.”
“Better,” Victor muttered, shivering. “But you're right, it simply could be one of – those. The children are safe now; otherwise, we wouldn't have left.” He absently picked at his tie. “But who could Dr. Wilson –”
“Victor! Alice!”
Out of nowhere, Charlie appeared, hugging them both around the legs. “Dr. Wilson said you were coming, but Abigail and Elsie didn't believe it!” he informed them, grinning wide. “And Reggie had bets going – he owes me sixpence now!”
Alice laughed, ruffling his hair. “Well, I'm glad you had faith in our appearance, at least! Merry Christmas, Charlie. It's good to see you.”
“How are you?” Victor asked. “And things here at the Home? We were just wondering who owns this carriage – has Dr. Wilson made some new friends in the city?”
“Oh – um–” Charlie fiddled with his fingers, suddenly unaccountably shy. “That – that actually just might be my new mum and dad.”
Alice gaped at him, eyes wide. His new – A glance at Victor proved her husband was just as stunned. “Oh Charlie. . .that's – that's fantastic.”
“Yes,” Victor finally managed, eyes bright. “W-well then. . .perhaps our toys won't be as exciting as we thought.”
